No title as of yet
by TwentyBananas
Summary: Sherlock WIP (Product of a 4am writing spree, no editing, unfinished) . Uploaded just to save it somewhere perma. Feel free to read and review. OC. Way after Reichenbach.


Chapter 1 (a prologue of sorts) : Just my luck.

A cold wind buffeted my face as I walked through the gathering crowd around what appeared to be a crime scene. I pulled the collar of my purple jacket up in an attempted to shield my face from the chill breeze. I reached the police tape that cornered off the house. My house. I instinctively and without thought, lifted the tape and tried to pass through, until a bulky police officer pushed me back.  
"But thats my house" I raised my voice over the incoming police sirens.

I had just returned from my work placement at a local shop. I had been working late and all I wanted is my bed. But, alas I return to a problem, blocking me from some well needed sleep. Just my luck. If there was a break in, I had nothing of value in there anyway, apart from a small laptop on its last legs and a small TV.

The police officer gave me a stern look. "Sorry 'mam but there has been a murder, the body was found inside your house. You have to come with us"  
It took me a while to process the words as the officer lead me to a nearby police car.  
"I'm sorry? But I don't live with anyone. It's just me" I managed to say before I was quickly ushered into the car.

Just my luck.

Chapter 2: Sherlock Holmes

"Clara Vex? I'm detective inspector Lestrade" A fairly handsome man in his late 40's, with greying hair and large brown eyes slapped down some paper work in front of me and sat down. I quickly mused that he looked a bit like a ferret, but my slight smirk that was starting to form on my frankly exhausted face was wiped away by the inspectors stern look.  
"You're not a suspect. We're simply investigating here. Just help us understand what happened and then you can go, okay?" He asked simply, and I nodded a yes back. Then he leaned on the table, taking a more relaxed pose. "And to be honest, your place is a mess. So you're gonna have to stay here while we clean up the innards of the victim"  
I laughed lightly "Seriously? I was at work the whole day. When I left it, I assure you there was no intestines lining the wall" I gulped slightly, hoping my attempt at being relaxed during the situation wasn't dodgy in some way.  
Lestrade chuckled lightly "So you was at work all day?"  
"From 9am all the way through to 5pm" I nodded.  
"Did you see anyone looking suspicious outside your house?"  
I let my mind wonder back to this morning, trying to recreate my street. "Well... It was actually pretty empty apart from my next door neighbour going to work and a few passing taxi's. I found that a bit odd though, during rush hour on a monday morning its normally pretty bus-" I was cut off by a knock at the door, and a younger woman entered, with a disgruntled look on her face. "Freak's here" Was all she said, and the DI got up from his chair, nodded an apology and headed out the room, closing the door angrily behind him.  
I heard some muttering behind the door and then another man entered, with Lestrade shouting after him;  
"You can't go in there! It's not your division!" He managed to get in before the new man slammed the door behind him. I found myself comparing him to Lestrade, musing that this one strongly resembled an otter and was handsomer. He was tall, and had a mess of black curly hair and striking blue-green eyes. He had strong features, cheekbones that you could get a cut from.  
I couldn't help but feel inappropriately dressed to be in the presence of someone I would quite willingly go on a date with.  
He quickly took a seat and leaned on the table. "Clara" His voice was deep, it sounded like velvet.  
I made a quick mental note to have more self control. I was just about to respond when the man quickly stood up and walked out again, he left the door open so I overheard him say something about me being completely innocent and that I can be discharged immediately. I wondered how the man could possibly have made that assumption in such a small space of time with no questioning.  
Lestrade poked his head round the corner and nodded the okay.

After I left the room I was told that I would be put in a holding cell for the time being, until a placement could be found until the clean up and evidence finding was complete. I sighed as I signed some papers that I hardly read and prepared myself to be in a cramped cold cell for the next few days.  
Lestrade walked by just as I was going to be lead down the hallway of cells, and I quickly stopped him.  
"Who was that man who came in? The one with the cheekbones?" I was intrigued unto who that man was.  
"Oh him" He pulled a slightly disgusted face "That was-" He was cut off by the man himself.  
"Sherlock Holmes"

Chapter 3: Placements

Sherlock asked me to follow him outside for a walk.  
Which was strange, but I accepted none the less. Childish thoughts came to mind like 'Maybe he's going to ask you out', but was quickly replaced with more sensible ideas like that he wanted to ask me a few questions in a different way. Detectives were trying out new methods in their lines of inquiries.

The biting wind caught me again as I stepped outside the station. I pulled up the collar of my jacket and followed Sherlock, who had already started making his way down the road.  
I quickly caught up with him.  
"I've got to thank you, by the way. For getting me out of at least an hour of questioning and a uncomfortable cell"  
"Yes. Station cells are the worst. Some people do deserve it though, don't you think?"  
I couldn't help but pick up a slightly sinister tone in the question, maybe he did suspect me after all.  
He called for a Taxi, and like a true gentleman, opened the door for me and let me get in first.  
"221b Bakers Street please" He said to the driver, who nodded and set off.  
I recognised the address, the cafe next to it I had visited many times. I frowned slightly, and grew increasingly worried.  
"Your house I presume?" I asked him,  
"Yes" He didn't seem to think it as odd.  
"And why are you taking me there?"  
"My room mate is on holiday" He frowned obviously irritated and maybe slightly crestfallen by the loss of his room mate. "I'm sure you would rather stay in a better place while the case is sorted out. The police are useless at finding placements, you would have been there for weeks, considering the state of your house"  
"Right... Thank you. It's most appreciated" I was grateful for the offering, and he was right. It was a damn sight better than a cell. But the feeling of suspicion didn't leave me.

There was a few moments of silence. I still had many questions and I shuffled in agitation.  
"You have questions?" He asked, without looking at me.  
"What kind of detective are you? You didn't really seem in with that lot back there" My formal tone that I had only just noticed that I was putting on disappeared.  
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world, I made up the job. When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they come to me"  
"Right... Interesting" This man was getting more and more mysterious the more I knew about him.  
He looked at me, with a slight quizzical look on his face, but then it lightened "Ah, not a TV person, obviously"  
I laughed "I choose not to, mind numbingly boring, all of it"  
"So you choose to play video games instead"  
"Yeah well it's mor-" I paused. How could he possibly know that I play video games? Maybe it was the noticeable bags underneath my eyes from the staying up all night. "I thought they wasn't noticeable"  
"Also the way you are tapping your thumb without thinking, prolonged button-tapping. Things are always noticeable. You're left handed, you are intellectual but you choose to study on your own at home instead working in the field. So you choose a simple job, so you can study while working. Obviously you live alone so that means you don't have a good relationship with your family that you choose not to be a part of, possibly because of history of small crimes that your younger sibling committed. You are single, by choice, because of a bad history of boyfriends in your younger years, domestic violence"  
I was speechless. This Sherlock was some kind of genius. "How?"  
"When you signed the paper you did it with your left hand. Your scarf is one from the Royal Alexander and Albert boarding school, but it's old and battered. Judging by your age, that meaning you must have left half way through teaching, but you still keep it, showing that you are dedicated to learning. You're sleep deprived, apart from late nights, also means low paying 9-5 job. You wear no makeup, no fancy hairstyle, dyed black. No one to impress. No boyfriend. There was nobody else with you when you came to the station from the scene, meaning you don't live with family. You are also familiar with the workings of the police force because you had to take your sibling out from there when he or she committed small crimes. Possibly public drunkenness, fights etcetera. You have an old scar on your left cheek and a slight limp, indicating domestic violence"  
Again, I was speechless. "Amazing. That's just... Amazing" I suppressed the desire to just clap.  
He smiled "Thank you. My room mate was the only other one that has said that"  
"Do others tell you to 'Piss off?" I chuckled lightly and so did he.

Chapter 4: 221b

When we had arrived at 221b Bakers Street the weather had eased but it was still a blessing to be inside a warm house. An elderly lady named Ms Hudson greeted us at the door and ushered us in to the small flat.

The living room was a bit of a mess; books, glasses and paper covered nearly every table. I couldn't help but notice a skull on the mantle-piece. Most people would think of it as a state and turn down the offer, but to me it was some kind of art. If I was looking to rent with someone, I would definitely choose Sherlock and this place.  
"What do you think?" He asked, putting his coat and scarf on the door and sitting down.  
"It's lovely, actually. It kind of resembles my own house" I smiled, sitting down in front of him.  
Ms Hudson came in with the tea she offered when she opened the door. I took it gratefully and sipped at it.  
"So you will be staying with us until your house is sorted? Sherlock, what you are going to do when Dr Watson comes back?" She had a sweet, warm and welcoming voice.  
"I'm sure the business will be cleaned up by then Ms Hudson"  
"Well okay then Sherlock. Make sure you treat the lady nicely" She said as she exited the room. She sounded like more of a mother to Sherlock than a landlady.  
Another thing about the room I noticed was the smiley face spay painted on the wall, with several bullet holes dotted around it. I shuffled. As much as I like the skull and the bullet holes, it did strike me as slightly sinister.  
"What are you going to do about clothes?" Sherlock asked. I hadn't thought about my lack of clothing.  
"Ah... Well, I just got my pay-check today so, I have a bit of money for that. Luckily" I mused that this all seemed like fate, me being here.  
There was moment of silence before my questions bubbled up again. I placed down my now empty tea cup and saucer and started. "I gotta thank you for letting me stay. It's a bit peculiar though, do you just go round asking people if they want to stay for a bit?"  
"No. With Dr Watson being away I get a bit lonely. Nobody to talk to, it helps be think. You just happened to be in a situation where you don't have a place to stay, apart from a cold hard cell"  
I frowned "Alright but what's with the skull?" I gestured towards the mantle-piece.  
"Old friend of mine. Well... I say friend"  
"And the bullet holes?"  
"Bored"  
"Right..." I relaxed a tiny bit.  
"An avid gamer like you must be used to gore and you'll probably want to take some retrievable belongings. Do you want to see the crime scene?" He asked.  
I felt a light pang of excitement run through me, taking over the previous fatigue. Blood, guts and glory. Wonderful. "Yes, actually"

Sherlock quickly stood up and grabbed his coat, and I followed suit.

Chapter 5: Blood, Guts and Glory

We took another taxi to my house. We quickly arrived there after a silent journey.  
The police tape still surrounded the house and I hesitated when Sherlock lifted the tape for me to go under.  
"Are you sure? I'm not going to get in trouble am I?"  
"You're with me, its fine"  
I nodded and passed under the tape. A thrill of joy passed through as I did, I had always wanted to do that. The door was already open, unsurprisingly enough and we entered.  
A foul stench of body fluids and guts hit me as I walked in. I gagged as I took a mask from the nearby table and put it on. The smell is something you avoid when playing video games. Blood lined the hallway, on the floor and over the walls. Sherlock didn't take a mask, which didn't really strike me as odd. Donovan and Lestrade happened to be there as well.  
"What are you doing here?" Spat Donovan, and with the name 'Freak' she gave Sherlock, she was obviously not a fan of him.  
"Investigating" Sherlock brushed passed them and their eyes sat on me.  
"Why did you bring her here?" Lestrade smiled apologetically at me, and then glared back at Sherlock who had already disappeared into the living room.

I trailed behind Lestrade as he entered the living room. The sight that faced me was horrifying.  
The room was painted with blood, intestines and other body organs lines the walls and floor. The severed head of the poor victim sat in the middle of the room over my favourite rug. I sighed, I loved that rug. It was one of my souvenirs from my holiday in Morocco a few years ago. It was beautiful and very expensive. Even if it did get cleaned, I still wouldn't be able to look it in the same way.  
"Where's the body?" I asked out, the head seemed to be there, but no body.  
Lestrade looked at me and opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by Sherlock calling from the kitchen.

"It's in your fridge"  
I grimaced and sighed "Jesus ch- Really?" I pushed past the bustling forensics team into the kitchen, to see Mr Holmes grinning at the fridge. I peered into it to see a headless, naked body sat in my fridge, all the items that were in it removed.  
"What do you think Clara?" He asked, not taking his eyes of the body.  
"Cultists..." I murmured, Sherlock looked at me with this eyebrow raised, "Well... It's got to be. Look here" I strode into the living room, pointing at the blood on the walls, which was crudely spread out to form what appeared to be a demonic summoning circle. "It's very crude but if I'm not mistaken


End file.
